


The first time, the last time

by Joana789



Series: Dying is always simple [1]
Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Character Death, I don't even know if it really is jasico, I made myself sad while writing this, I'm Sorry, Implied Relationships, Jason is swearing, M/M, Post-Gaea, Sad, You'll see for yourself, because it's supposed to, but i hope it is, he has a good reason though, i kind of hope it'll make you sad too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joana789/pseuds/Joana789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were screams, he vaguely recalls that. And it was dangerous. But it’s not anymore, right? Not here, where is so silent and deserted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The first time, the last time

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the novel "Before I Die" by Jenny Downham. In a way, at least.  
> As usual, I'm sorry for any possible mistakes and errors, feel free to tell me about them.  
> God, I feel worse that I probably should. I kind of like it, though and I hope you'll like it as well.  
> [angstandcats.tumblr.com]

It… hurts.

That’s pretty much the only thought in Nico’s mind after he wakes up and discovers himself laying in the middle of nowhere, a broken sword in his hand, limbs heavy and vision blurred. The pain’s so overwhelming that for a couple of minutes he can’t feel anything else because _everything_ hurts. He is not even able to breathe normally – air turns out to be more like fire, burning his lungs.

Oh, gods.

Time passes – a patient person, Nico doesn’t move for a long while, so long it feels more like hours. When he starts to feel his body shivering, it strikes him how cold it is here, wherever he is. The ground's hard and, for some reason, damp. The sky more grey than blue, cloudy, dark. Everything stops for a moment, the air almost still. Except his own, weak breathing, there’s absolutely no other sounds to be heard.

What happened?

His mind doesn’t really work as well as it should but Nico still tries to remember something and, unfortunately, fails. The memories are hazy, strangely unfamiliar and obscure. Nico knows there was a battle –or something more, nearly – but that’s it. There were screams, he vaguely recalls that. And it was dangerous. But it’s not anymore, right? Not here, where is so silent and deserted.

As he thinks about it, frowning, he also decides that he should stand up – it really started to get cold here but it quickly turns out that his arms are powerless and limp. When he tries to support himself while lifting his upper body, all the force vanishes and he’s on the ground again, unable to even move. He hears a loud thud as his head hits rough sand.

It hurts.

Nico grits his teeth and exhales slowly, wincing. He can’t breathe. Can’t move. It’s so cold.

He lays on the ground, still doesn’t hear anything and then – when the muscles in his arm twitch suddenly, he feels something warm on his skin. Tilting his head – it sends needles of pain up his spine –he discovers that it’s blood.

He’s bleeding. Not only from his arm, as he notices a minute later.

He knows it should disturb him – well, he probably should be panicked – but nothing like that appears. No fear, no dread. Just calm.

Nearly torpor.

And then he hears someone approaching.

At the beginning, it’s just the sound of somebody’s steps on the ground, perfectly audible thanks to all the silence around. After some time, though, he can already hear the person breathing heavily. The footsteps are becoming slightly louder and then they stop.

“Nico?”

He knows this voice – at least he thinks he does. It sounds familiar and is very pleasant, even though a little husky. Hearing it makes him open his eyes – which he closed at some point, apparently.

And, before he gets the chance to spot anything else, he sees Jason Grace.

Oh. Nico remembers Jason.

His blue eyes – so unlike the sky right now. His hair and running his hands through it sometimes, when they were teasing each other. His smile, which is not on his lips at the moment.

What a pity.

“Nico, oh my gods, can you hear me?”

His mind is so slow that it takes him a couple of seconds to create a response.

“Yeah," he says.

His voice is hoarse, quiet and kind of muffled.  It’s probably not a good thing.

Jason seems a bit scared for some unknown reason but Nico is glad the boy’s here anyway. Something in the back of his head tells him that Grace is important, maybe even more than he should be - but does it really matter? Jason is a good guy. Has always been, although Nico can’t really remember why he thinks so. He wouldn’t hurt him - deep inside, Nico trusts him and it’s a soothing thought. After all, they spent some time together, on and off the deck of Argo II. Jason turned out to be a good comrade and, later, a friend as well. Now, despite the fact Nico would never admit it, the boy is more important than that – and Nico is important _to him_. It’s nice to have someone like this.

Suddenly, there’s a name popping up in his mind – it looks strange at first but when Nico forms it into words, he instantly knows.

Hazel is important, too.

Oh, he knows. Hazel. The pretty girl with dark skin and curly hair, whom he found in the Underworld – that was what this place was called, right? This caring, brave, loving person he cherished so much. He rememberes her smile and her eyes and her warm touch on his skin. She was waiting for him there, underground, when he saw her for the first time. His sister.

Nico tries to say her name and even though it doesn’t really sound like it should when it comes out of his mouth, Jason seems to understand because he answers nevertheless.

“Hazel is safe. Everyone is safe. We won, Nico.”

 _We won what?_ the boy wants to ask, but he can’t make another sound. He looks at Jason as the blonde frowns and then takes a bit of sand in his hand. He looks even more scared than before and Nico wonders what happened.

“Holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

Jason still looks at his own hand – the sand in it dark, weirdly reddish or maybe more brown, a colour Nico has never seen before. Realizing why takes him some time.

He’s bleeding, he already knows that. The sand is blood-soaked.

That’s probably not a good thing.

He lifts his head a little – it’s incredibly painful and tiring but he looks around anyway, seeing that the ground near is also painted in this different, odd colour. Nico begins to wonder how much blood he has lost by now.

Two litres? More?

His head starts to feel very light, but he still can barely move it. The weariness begins to increase, as does the pace of his heartbeat. Breath stays shallow, uneven and the only thing he wants to do now is sleep.

Feeling Jason pressing on his wounds, trying to stop the blood and murmuring something Nico can’t understand, feeling more tired than ever, he closes his eyes.

Grace doesn’t even let him take a nap, though.

“Nico, look at me, okay?” he says in a slightly shaky voice. Nico thinks that the sound of Jason talking is one of the best sounds he’s ever heard so he opens his eyes with difficulty, just as he was asked to. “Hold on. I don’t have any more nectar but you’ll be okay.”

Jason presses his palms to the wound on Nico’s chest, probably doing something meant to help again but, as the boy hisses because of sudden pain, his lungs start to burn even more. It’s almost too much, unbearable. Jason’s hands are strong, firm and covered in blood, scars on them hardly visible.

 _If it wasn’t so painful_ , Nico thinks, _the touch itself would be very pleasant._

He moves his gaze from Jason’s hands to his shoulders and then the rest of his body – vision still blurred but only a bit. Grace is kneeling next to him, by his side. He has a few injures himself – on his leg, arm and wrist. All of them are already bandaged and taken care of, none of the wounds bleeding. Only a tiny scratch on his cheek is fresh.

“Why…” Nico tries to say, moving his lips difficult as hell, ”Why are you… here?”

Jason looks at him – frightened, panic visible in the blue eyes. Nico thinks it doesn’t suit him. He’s like Superman. He should be happy.

“I was looking for you,” the blonde answers and immediately picks up what he was doing before – taking care of Nico’ s wounds, securing them with pieces of torn clothing Nico didn’t notice before and pressing his hands on them.

He can feel them shaking.

His eyes close again but, remembering what Jason told him, he opens them – this time it’s way more difficult, though. Blinking is, he decides seconds later, the most tiring thing he’s ever done, for sure. Heavy eyelids and even heavier chest take all of his energy.

He closes his eyes, surrendering, and discovers that the darkness is so, so much better than light.

To get some sleep is his goal. That’s it. Glad to get some silence, he relaxes, his body limp. It feels impossible to rest now and here, in this freezing cold, but he’s so exhausted.

“Nico? Shit, don’t close your eyes. You can’t sleep, you hear me? Nico!”

Jason’s voice is almost too quiet. Nico takes another, slightly deeper breath and the air burns his lungs, chilly fire getting spread in his body along with all the oxygen.

Oh, gods, it hurts.

It’s only a quick nap, he wants to say. Just five minutes, Grace, don’t be such an asshole. But there’s something strange in a way Jason says his name – something new.

So Nico tries, really hard, but, unfortunately, fails. His eyelids are too heavy and he doesn’t have enough energy left to do something about it.

“Nico, please," he hears – Jason seems quite desperate now. “Just a little longer, please, stay with me. Don’t sleep, fuck, you can’t sleep yet, Nico, I’m begging you.”

His voice cracks with emotion – that is something Nico has never heard before. He listens to Jason’s heavy breathing – the boy is touching his face now, even though Nico is not injured here. The sensation is almost too gentle.

Something cold drops on his cheek.

At first, he thinks it’s raining. The sky was so cloudy after all. Then he hears a sob – so quiet he nearly misses it – and, really curious what is happening, tries to open his eyes with all the energy he has. His vision is blurred, the dim light of the day hurts his eyes but he manages to focus.

And then he sees it.

Jason Grace is crying.

He looks really panicked. Tears streaming down his face, he runs his hands through Nico’s hair, now a bit sticky from blood, then brushes his fingers over his cheeks and lips – so subtle, so nice. Nico wants to lean into the touch but he can’t.

“Nico,” Jason breathes, trying to calm down, “Nico, please, stay with me, just look at me, okay? I’m here, please, don’t leave me, don’t sleep.”

Jason shouldn’t do that. He’s too strong to cry – especially over someone like Nico di Angelo. It’s a strange feeling, to see him like this. Nico prefers when Jason is smiling, really.

And he doesn’t believe. No, Jason can’t be crying, he thinks seconds later, staring at his tears with barely open eyes, eyelids heavy. It’s not real, is it? There’s no way it can be real. There’s no way.

So he tries to move – and, after some time, he manages to do so – and, raising his shaking, cold hand, he touches Jason’s cheek, where one of the tears is.

“I’ve never…” he mutters, then chokes on his words, too little air in his burnt lungs, “I’ve never seen you crying before”

Because Jason is really crying, these words are important. Nico can feel the wetness and cold under his fingers in the place where he touched the tear. He lets his hand fall – there’s a dull sound when it meets the ground. He closes his eyes again, only to hear Jason yelling.

"Fuck, Nico! Stay, please, stay with me! I’m here, shit, I’m begging you!” There’s another sobbing sound and Jason shouts one more time, not to Nico, though “I need help! Fuck, quickly!”

Nico is not sure but he thinks that someone is running towards them.

Breathe. It used to be so easy after all.

The darkness welcomes him like an old friend, soothing and familiar. It makes the pain fade away and all the sounds start to disappear.

He’s so exhausted.

Somebody says his name – it’s a girl, not Jason. Maybe Hazel. He doesn’t know.

There’s a hint of colour in the blackness. And another. After a second it forms into a memory but Nico is not sure what it is about. He’s not able to understand it, the images not entirely clear. At some point, though, it turns into a simple photo.

A picture. Into many pictures.

One appearing after another. Scattered in his mind. Changing. Slowly, without a hurry.

He hears Jason shouting again and feels another tear dropping on his cheek.

The pictures start to gather in one place, in the back of his head and he sees them, flashing in front of his closed eyes.

The sun. Warm wind on his skin. The face of a person he passes on the street. Empire State Building. A couple of silver coins. His bed in the cabin, near the cold wall. The depths of Tartarus, much less frightening now. Grey, cracked pavement. Bones of an animal, a mess at his feet.

He’s so tired.

Voices around him – whispering, then yelling, saying “Please, no, please, stay.”

A gift wrapped in colourful paper. Pale skin of the person in the mirror. Little girl, crying. Bianca’s laugh. Seagulls sitting on the sand. His mother’s eyes. A slight smile on his father’s lips.

Jason’s tears, his firm grip on his hand, sobs escaping from his mouth.

His name written on a small piece of paper. Millions of stars in his cup.

Shadow travelling.

Seven little stones in the middle of the road.

A whisper. “Please, stay.”

There’s a cloud in the sky. Silence. Emptiness.

“Nico.”

So many pictures.


End file.
